Playing Games
by Maranwe Elanor
Summary: Light hearted games hide troubled thoughts.
1. Homecoming

**Title: Playing Games**

**Author:** Maranwe

**Summary: **Light hearted games hide troubled thoughts.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. I've never owned them. I never shall own them. Now leave me alone, I'm depressed enough!

**Rating: **G, maybe PG

**Warning:** Um… there's no blood. Angst.

**A/N:** This is another story written for the MC Teitho contest. Absolutely completely finished, it will be updated regularly, every other day. This hasn't been beta'd, not surprising, as none of my stories are, but I thought I'd say it anyway. Oh, and I killed Gilraen off with Arathorn because I have no idea how to write her and not enough ambition to try. Maybe later.

Review and make me happy. Please?

o/o/o/o/o/o

Games People Play

_In learning you will teach and in teaching you will learn. . . ._

**Chapter 1 - Homecoming**

Spring lay over the lands, still fresh and new after the cold of the winter months. Green leaves now decorated the once barren limbs of tall trees, and buds formed on plants that would soon bear flowers of every color. Birds flittered from tree to tree, soured across the sky, and sang their joy to the heavens. Something about the day encouraged one to go slow, and the two beings following the path to Imladris obliged.

Both were dressed in dark clothes, their attire a mix of hunter brown, grey and midnight blue with black cloaks slung across their shoulders. Their hoods were thrown back, revealing raven-colored hair and keen grey eyes. Swords hung at their waists, and they rode easily atop nearly identical chocolate brown stallions, comfortable with their position and watchful of their surroundings.

To the casual eye, they were warriors, ready and able to face whatever threat might happen shatter the natural order of the day. Only a closer examination would reveal the dirt that clung to their clothes and smudged their faces or the slight slump that graced with proud shoulders, evidence of a long and weary fight in the Wilds. Only one who knew them well would find the fatigue in their eyes, the pain that yet dwelt behind the pretense of ease. Twins, and long each other's only close companion, they needed no words to know the other's thoughts.

Three long months had passed since they set out to join the Rangers. Many orcs and other fell creatures had perished in that time, never to trouble the residents of Middle-earth ever again, but that did not make the wear of time and battle easier to bear.

"Father will be pleased," one of the riders commented.

The other snorted. "Father won't be pleased until we agree to stay an entire year."

Elrohir looked at his brother, frowning ever so slightly. "He worries about us."

"He need not. We are much more careful than we used to be." Elladan scanned their surroundings intently before returning his gaze to his brother. "Besides, we aren't gone that long."

"It feels like a long time," the younger one sighed. "I swear time passes faster among humans."

The other laughed. "By that reckoning, brother, it would still be winter in Imladris!"

"Please, no! I never want to see snow again."

"You plan to sail west this summer, then?" Elladan teased lightly.

"Nay," his brother replied. "I thought to go to sleep now and not stir again till _next_ spring."

"Cowardly of you, brother."

Elrohir smiled wryly. "Nay, brother: indulgent. I fear that shall be how long it takes to rid the ache from my bones."

Elladan echoed his twin's smile. "Sleep, then," he answered. "For myself, I will spend the intervening time in a bath of hot water. We will see who fares better when time is up."

"Or we could go visit Arwen in Lothlorien," the younger said. "It has been years since we last saw Little Sister. I'm sure she would love to see us, and the Golden Wood is delightful this time of year I'm told."

"Oh, aye; but you're forgetting something, brother."

"What's that?"

"The Lord and Lady of said wood."

"Too true." Elrohir paused thoughtfully, his lips pursed as his mind traveled back several years to their last visit. "Perhaps we should wait several more seasons. Like a dozen."

"Or two," Elladan finished. "I agree."

"Besides, it would be a shame to travel again so soon after returning home. Father would be most displeased."

"And it is not wise to displease the Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

"Do you suppose he would forgive us if we returned again uninjured?"

"El," the elder answered. "All I want to suppose right now is how that water is going to feel when I lay down in it and can finally be wholly and truly clean."

"You and me both, brother. You and me both.

o/o/o/o/o/o

All was quiet. His footsteps did not make a sound as he crept through the tunnel, making sure to hug the walls. Orcs were here.

He slowed as he reached the corner where a new passage crossed his. Carefully, he glanced to the far-side, looking for any beasts that might give away his presence. None appeared and he eased his eyes around the corner at his back to check the other way.

He saw movement and pulled back quickly, pressing firmly against the wall and resting his hand on the hilt of his sword while he listened for the thing's footsteps. He imagined he heard them passing into another tunnel and after a few minutes dared to look again.

The way was clear.

Half-crouched, he sprinted across intersection and pressed his back to the wall once he reached the other side. He listened for signs that anyone had seen him. But footsteps did not approach him, nor was any cry raised. A smile crept across his lips. He could do this.

The orcs, he knew, were in the cavern at the end of the tunnel. They had taken an elf-maiden hostage and were set to do horrible things to her. What, exactly, he did not know, but he knew it would be bad and it was his duty to stop it from happening—which was why he was here. He would save her.

He darted from shadow to shadow and paused behind boulders and pillars before flowing around them and continuing on. No one hindered him. The sentry he silenced with a well-thrust sword before it could alert its friends. He left it slumped by the door.

Holding his sword ready at the entrance, he peeked around the edge. No orcs were immediately visible, so he slipped inside, very careful not to make any sounds.

When he made it fully inside, he saw them. They crowded around something on the floor, and by their speech he knew they were playing a game. The elf-maiden was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at the only other entrance, a closed door, and knew that was where they kept her. She would be waiting fearfully for them to return. He would ease her fears.

Moving with a silence only the eldar could manage, he came up behind the foul beasts—and struck. He cut off heads and stabbed chests, employing the graceful spins and stunning flourishes he had seen his brothers use in their sparing matches against each other. The orcs never knew what hit them. In moments, with the aide of his trusted sword, they were all dead.

He stood back and was just about to return the blade to its sheath when the other door opened. He jumped back and raised his sword as it swung open, then smiled when he saw who entered.

"I saved you, Mailawen!" he announced happily.

The elf-maiden paused in the doorway and regarded the six-year-old boy with surprise. Dressed in dark blue pants with brown boots and the grey shirt with blue rings on the arms, he had his quiver strapped to his back with the bow sticking out of it and a miniature sword with sheath to complete the outfit. She blinked, then recovered herself and smiled. "Oh, thank you, Estel!" she exclaimed.

He bowed as he had seen his brothers do and tucked his sword back into its sheath. "There were lots of them, but I could not let them hurt you."

"My hero!" she laughed, closing the distance between them so she could hug him. "Whatever would I do without you?"

"I don't know," he answered solemnly. His silver eyes were wide as he looked at her, perhaps trying to imagine that very event.

"Well, now you have saved me, what shall you do, oh brave warrior?"

The boy frowned slightly. "Do you think there are anymore Orcs?"

"I think you have slain the only ones for miles," she answered.

Estel took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nodded his head decisively as his idea took hold. "Then I think I shall go outside and visit the trees. Do you think they are lonely?"

Mailawen smiled gently. "I don't think they could have a better friend than you. Now, go, little warrior! You mustn't keep them waiting!"

He smiled brightly at her before running out the door and quickly retracing his steps. Nimbly, he avoided colliding with any of the other elves as they moved about the house, and their exasperated glances followed him to the front entrance.

Upon reaching the steps, Estel's happiness swelled. He never got to go outside this early. Usually, he was in classes with Glorfindel, learning sums or history or language (which was actually two classes because he had to learn both Elvish and Common—Ada said so). It was only after lunch that he was taken outside to learn sword-fighting and play.

But Glorfindel had left two days earlier on a very important errand, and a paper crisis had called pretend-tutor Erestor away, and Ada never had time to do anything with him after breakfast or before lunch, so he was left to his own devices. This prospect excited him so much, he paused atop the steps unsure what do. What did one do for an once-in-a-lifetime free morning?

Estel frowned as he surveyed Rivendell from his perch. He thought it should be something spectacular, something he never got to do, but what? Wandering the woods and speaking to the trees did not seem worthy enough an expedition anymore, now that he had had time to think about it. He could go riding, but Ada had already told him they would do that after lunch and he was not allowed to ride on his own.

The youth was still puzzling over this dilemma when the sounds of hooves reached his ears and drew his eyes down the path toward the gate. There he could see two figures riding towards him. It did not take long for him to figure out who they were.

"Elrohir!" he shouted, starting down the steps as quickly as his little legs would carry him. "Elladan! You're home!" A delighted grin split his face.

The twins saw their little brother racing towards them and exchanged exasperated glances. Neither had expected to find the human child waiting for them. He was supposed to have lessons in the morning. Where was Glorfindel? The boy looked to be quite alone.

Elrohir dismounted just in time to catch the young human before he bowled into his legs, managing to hug him before the boy pulled from his grasp and attacked his twin. "Estel! What are you doing out here? Where's Glorfindel?"

The dark-haired child looked up at them happily, one hand holding Elladan's. "I was gonna play 'cause Glorfindel's not here to teach me stuff and Erestor's too busy, but now that you're here, you can play with me!"

"Estel, we—"

"Can we play hide-me-seek-me? Can we? Please, please, please, Elrohir?"

"We can—"

"Please? I'll be good. I promise." Silver eyes looked up at them hopefully, aided by a pathetic pout.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged helpless glances, each hoping the other would have a plan to get them away from the tenacious and energetic child, and each coming up short in the face of the youth's pleas. Both could see their baths, and clean, fresh clothes slipping from their grasps.

Elrohir sighed. "Oh, alright—"

"Yay!" Estel cheered, jumping up and down ecstatically. "I'll be It."

"Ok," Elladan agreed. He knelt next to the boy. "How about we make it more fun?"

The child stilled, his interest piqued. "How do we do that?"

"Glorfindel's been teaching you how track, hasn't he?" the elder twin asked. Estel nodded eagerly. "Well, hide-me-seek-me is the best game to play while you're learning to track, and it's more fun. Me and Elrohir used to do it all the time."

"Really?"

"Really," Elrohir chimed in. "We had the most fun following each other's tracks through the woods around Rivendell."

"But it also requires lots of patience, Estel," Elladan cautioned. "You may not be old enough yet."

"I'm old enough!" the boy objected predictably. "I can be patient!"

Elladan smiled. "Alright, then. Pick a base."

The twins followed more slowly as Estel ran across the grounds towards the first of the trees. "Trail and bail?" Elrohir asked quietly.

The other nodded. "It'll take him hours to follow our trail. We should be able to change and get back out here before he realizes we're gone."

"Here!" Estel interrupted from yards away, his hands pressed against his chosen tree. "How's this one?"

"It's perfect, little one!" Elrohir called back. "What will you count till?"

"Um—twenty."

"Alright. Close your eyes and count really loud. . . ."

Obediently, the human child turned his face to the tree, closed and covered his eyes, and started counting. "_One . . . two . . . three. . . ._"

The dark-haired elves started running, darting between the first of the trees and making sure they left enough of a trail for the six-year-old to find. They knew he had been taught the basics but they had no idea how far past that he had progressed. Whether or not he would be able to follow their trail was a matter that held little concern for them. When they were finished with their bath, they would eventually find him.

"_Eleven . . . twelve . . . thirteen. . . ._"

After they had run straight back a good ways, they shift course and started heading to the north, thinking to circuit the Last Homely House as a means of keeping the child from harm.

They ran until they were sure Estel had stopped counting, then stopped and made a beeline for the house. They would be done long before they were missed.


	2. Not Sought but Found

Eh-hm. See? I am capable of posting in a timely manner. Lol. By the way, if anyone would like to suggest a better summary, I'm all ears.

I'd like to thank HarryEstel and Grumpy for reviewing. I have to figure out what I heard about and responding to reviewers that has the MCers upset. I missed the original complaint—announcement—whatever and am suspending individual responses for the time being. Sorry. I will, however, answer any questions you may have.

Now, let's find out what happens to Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel, shall we?

**Chapter 2 – Not Sought but Found**

"_Twenty_."

Estel stopped counting and stepped back from the tree. A quick glance showed he was all alone, his older brothers having done as they were supposed to and hidden. He grinned as he imagined how surprised they would be when he would them. They did not know how good he had gotten.

He remembered then that, in his excitement, he had not told the twins about his adventure with the orcs this morning, nor had he told them about his birthday just three weeks earlier. Ada had spent the entire day with him. He still needed to tell them about the deer he had tracked, and how good he had gotten with his bow. He had even hit the very center of the target! They would be so proud of him.

But first I have to find them, he reminded himself, scrunching up his brow as he had seen Ada do when he focused on very important papers.

Concentrating, Estel moved further back and began scanning the ground systematically as he had been taught, sweeping his eyes back and forth across a wide area to keep from missing anything. Elven steps were _very_ difficult to track, and Elladan and Elrohir were very good elves. Yet it was not hard to discover the bent blades of grass that marked where the twins had passed and he followed them into the trees.

Bent close to the ground, he made sure he did not step on the tracks he followed, as Glorfindel had warned against, and even scanned the area around the tracks, just in case they had tried some trickery and diverted from their original path.

His frown deepened when the footsteps separated and went in two separate directions. He bit his lip as he looked up and attempted to trace each trail from where he stood. He could not follow either very far. For long minutes, he stood where he was, silently debating which path to follow.

When he was older, he would learn to scout a little further along each path before deciding his course and would also know more of the terrain, but for now, the right-hand path seemed more interesting to him and he followed it further east around a large tree and partially lost it amid the fat and branching roots a bare two steps later.

Determined to prove to his brothers he was a good tracker, it did not occur to him to go back and follow the other path which was clearer. Instead, he chose a spot which was clear and squatted, his hands folded out of the way in his lap.

Intent silver eyes darted back and forth over the uneven ground looking for the signs he had been taught. But here, they were not so clear, if they existed at all. He could not find the indentions of his brother's step in the dirt around the trunk and wondered if Elladan (or Elrohir) had, with their greater balance, stepped upon the roots instead, to make it more challenging.

With that thought in mind, the dark-haired child eased forward and leaned closer to the roots to get a better look. When he did, his bow half fell out of his quiver, forcing him to sit back up and fix it. Yet now it had come loose, and he could not get it to stay put.

Frustrated, Estel yanked it out and held it as he conducted his search, and after several minutes, he determined he had found them and spider-walked over the roots to the relatively clear earth on the other side, where he perched on one of the roots with a hand against the trunk to survey what lay before him.

He did not realize it, but the ground was harder here, yielding only grudgingly to the pressure of another's passage; he noticed only that the signs of footsteps were faint, fainter than any made by a creature his father and Glorfindel had shown him, and he followed them as they led him southeast through the forests in the river vale.

The farther he traveled the more fun he had following the tracks. He allowed himself to imagine he was following orcs instead of his brothers, a whole hoard of them. Their trail was all but impossible to follow, and he—with his keen eyes and uncanny ability to read the slightest smudge—was the only one who could retrace their path. His eyes darted from one track to the next, and he moved as quietly as he could, determined to sneak up on his brothers unnoticed. They would be so surprised!

How much time had passed, he did not know, but after many minutes, the boy caught the trickle of running water. To him, it sounded rather like when he left the water running and the tub overflowed. Ada had been so mad when he came in to find the bathing chamber flood with water! But he had not meant to do it, and there were no bathtubs in the Wild to overflow and anger anyone's ada. Immediately, his mind skittered to the only bodies of water he had ever seen: lakes.

And ponds, he amended, thinking of the little pool Elrohir had shown him last summer where there were frogs and lily pads, and the water was only a foot deep so one could fish for tadpoles that tickled one's legs when they swam past. He smiled as he moved more carefully, imaging himself to be near the end of his search.

He climbed a small embankment on his hands and feet, still following the tracks he had found, and upon reaching the top looked up to find he had, indeed, discovered a lake.

At least twenty feet wide and thirty across, it was fed by a small stream that trickled from the west, more than likely an offshoot of the Bruinen. It was surrounded by many lush green plants, and several of those had little white flowers. The water itself was crystal clear. More important to Estel, however, was that right in front of him, no more than ten feet away, stood a deer.

The dark-haired boy stared at it in wonder as the graceful creature dipped its head to drink from the lake. Short antlers, perhaps twice the length of his hand, branched away from his head. "Wow," he breathed. He had not gotten to see many of the peaceful creatures in his short life, and his few associations with them had to fully put in his mind the grace and beauty of elves to tire of them after perhaps three viewings.

And the one from two years ago doesn't even count, he decided. I didn't get even get to see it properly before it ran away.

Not wanting to risk scaring the buck away, he pushed himself up carefully in an effort to see the tracks without moving from his spot. As the ground was soft here, the tracks showed up quite well, and he was able to watch their progression without having to stand fully up as they proceeded towards the water's edge, seeming to lead directly for the deer.

It took him a moment for the meaning of that to sink in, a slight frown pinching his brow, but when it did, he sighed. I followed the wrong tracks, he thought unhappily. But his eyes settled back on the buck, which had finished drinking and now raised its head to glance to the left, and he decided he did not mind. At least I can track deer, he consoled himself, knowing it was an accomplishment, even if it was not the one he wished.

After several minutes of silent observation, the six-year-old recalled himself to his game, and turned away to retrace his steps. It was decidedly easier to follow his own footprints than it had been the deer's, and he moved quickly.

In the back of his mind was the idea that if he took too long, Elladan and Elrohir would get tired of waiting for him and come looking for him, or—and this was the one that truly made him hurry to return to the true trail—they would forget about him and go do something else. So before long he was running, and it was more by luck than skill that he found the tree where he had first lost the tracks and set out upon what he believed to be the right path.

His confidence in his ability to find his brother's was greatly shaken by his little detour, and he studied all subsequent tracks doubly hard before trusting to the direction they led him. And now, when he looked, there seemed to be dozens of little marks that _could_ be his brothers.

An eternity seemed to have passed since he counted, and Estel was feeling tired and thirsty. The tracks seemed impossibly hard to read and he was frustrated. Looking back towards home, he imagined the cool juice that the cooks would have prepared for lunch, and imagined the tracks would be much clearer and easier to follow if he could drink it.

Held by indecision, he looked back down at the ground, then out at the trees. Would Elladan and Elrohir be mad at him if he took a break to get something to drink? The sun was nearly fully up in the sky, and he usually had a small snack about mid-morning. He had forgotten about it in his excitement, but now his stomach rumbled disapprovingly. Maybe he could go quickly and be back before they realized he was gone?

Again turning his eyes towards home, he decided. He would be back quickly. And he ran.

Elrohir walked into Elladan's room to find his twin dressed in a mahogany and black riding outfit, slightly bent, and towel drying his hair. He, himself, had just finished buttoning the tunic of his navy blue tunic as the other looked up.

A faint smile tugged at the elder's lips. "You know, the dirt is never something you think about when you're a child, eagerly awaiting your opportunity to go on a hunt."

"And the lack of bathing chambers your last concern," Elrohir agreed, taking a seat on his brother's bed.

"And the lack of clean clothes never bothers you until you don't have any."

"The Enemy's greatest weapon."

Elladan paused in his motions and gave his twin a dark look. "You suffered the same as I. You could be a little more understanding."

"I could," the younger agreed lightly, not the least bit repentant.

"It was you, after all, and not I, who snapped at Halbarad for leading us through the marshes."

"You were asleep!" Elrohir protested, outraged. Elladan just laughed. "Well, at least I wasn't the one who almost behead Ethnil for splattering me with mud."

"It was cold," the other defended.

"He got it in your hair," Elrohir reminded him with a laugh.

Elladan scowled. "I swear he did it on purpose."

He laughed even harder. "Well you may be sure he will never do it again!"

The elder twin dropped his towel in a nearby chair and frowned at his still laughing brother. "It is not that funny, El," he told him crossly. He twisted his hair back from his face without brushing it and tied it with quickly with a leather thong. "Besides, someone needed to teach him to respect his elders."

Elrohir choked. "You mean fear his elders?"

"Same thing," the other murmured. "Now get your lazy butt up and let's go."

"Legolas will be so pleased," he teased as they left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Elladan glared at him as they passed down the hallway towards the courtyard. "I do not yet now how, but you will pay for this, my brother. And then we'll see who's laughing."

Elrohir smiled indulgently, but offered neither comment nor rebuttal. It would serve little purpose but to antagonize his twin further, and that would be more fun later, during dinner—when he could do so safely under their father's watchful eyes with his target unable to escape. His smile widened.

He looked at the paintings and sculptures as they walked, the finely wrought architecture, and could not quite pin down his feelings. Rivendell, for all that he loved it, had never felt the same since their mother left. Full of beauty and peace, it reminded him cruelly of their failure to protect their mother from orcs. Some part of him rebelled at living in comfort while even one of those foul beasts yet roamed Arda, and it was that agitation that drove them from their father's halls even as it was their displacement that prompted them to return.

It was a cycle, a vicious cycle, that Celebrian's departure had set in motion, and which Aragorn—Estel—had disrupted. Three months was actually their longest absence since the child had arrived at Rivendell. Before that, it had been their absolute shortest sojourn.

More often that not, it was duty that now called them home instead of a need for reaffirmation. All too often it meant the killers born when their mother sailed were forced to turn away unsated. If he was brutally honest with himself, he knew that was the reason they had stayed away so long this time. The drive to exterminate the savage beasts had built up until it could no longer be pressed into two weeks worth of prowling. And would they have returned now had not they known their father expected it? For Estel, if not for himself?

He was inclined to think not. Despite their banter and their desire to be clean once more, to rest in comfort and peace, the desire to hunt orc remained, a constant hum in the background of his thoughts. It distracted, taunted, and he knew his brother felt the same. It would not be long before they departed again. Father would be disappointed.

Elrohir exchanged a glance with Elladan and knew they thought—felt—the same. Perhaps if they had remained in the Wilds another month it would not be so, but they both felt it. Their father—no matter how much he disapproved—would understand. Estel would not.

"Elladan! Elrohir!" Both looked up as they heard their names called, distracting them from their intended task, for the second time that day. "How fare you?"

Identical grins spread across their faces as they recognized the visitor. "Legolas, you waif! We had near despaired that you had forgotten all about us," Elrohir exclaimed as the hurried down the stairs to meet the newly arrived elf.

Legolas dismounted with a wry grin. "It slipped your mind, then, that you could just as easily have come to visit me?" He raised an elegant eyebrow as he clasped forearms first with Elladan, then with Elrohir, grasping each one's shoulder to complete the greeting.

"Of course."

"Besides, I thought your father forbid us from ever returning to your woods again," Elladan added helpfully.

"I'll have you know the Grand Audience Chamber has never been the same since," the wood-elf replied, his tone dry. "It took weeks to put the place back into some semblance of order. And only the knowledge that he could be rid of you saved you from a couple of centuries in the dungeons, my friends."

They laughed. "Can you imagine Father's reaction?" Elrohir asked. It was aimed at his twin, but the Prince of Mirkwood answered.

"Indeed, I can," he answered. "He would write quickly and say, 'Lord Thranduil, King of Mirkwood: I am most grateful for your words, and I must thank you'—"

Elladan shoved him before he could continue. "You nift!"

"—'for your timely intervention'," the other continued, laughing. "'For without your aid, I fear they may never have learned the art of remaining in a single place for a decent period of time.'"

"Ah!" Elrohir exclaimed. "You are not so wise as we had thought."

"No? You think he would react otherwise?"

"Of course! We are his sons!"

At this, Legolas nodded sagely. "I see. You are right. He would thank him for finally contriving a way to keep you two out of trouble." He stumbled as both shoved him and tripped up the stairs. "Peace!" he laughed. "Peace! You would not attack a weary traveler, now would you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Elladan declaimed, suddenly solicitous. "Would you like us to have your rooms readied? We had thought to finish that little tournament you chickened out of when last we met, but if you're too tired. . . ." He tried to lead the other into the house, but Legolas did not budge.

"Chickened out?" the elf prince repeated darkly. "I did not 'chicken out.'"

"Whatever you say, my prince," the elder twin responded easily, still trying to lead him inside.

Legolas stilled him with a hand on his wrist. "I did not chicken out, son of Elrond."

Slowly, Elladan smiled. "Would you care to prove it and finish what we started?"

"Get your bows."

Estel was glad to leave the trees. He liked playing in them and around them, but at the moment he was more than eager to be home and get something to drink. It had taken longer than he thought it would to return to the Last Homely House, and his throat was dry.

The boy crossed the courtyard from the northeast as fast as he could, eager to have some of the apple cider the cooks had mentioned this morning at breakfast. He was so focused, in fact, that when he saw his brothers leaving the house, he forgot for a moment that they were supposed to be hiding in the woods for him to track them.

His eyes lit up as he saw them, but they never looked his way, turning instead to talk to another elf that came out behind them. His first thought was that Glorfindel had returned and he opened his mouth to call out to them. But in the next, he knew it could not be, and he held silent. When they headed in the opposite direction with bows slung over their shoulders, he stopped running, confused.

Who was the strange elf? He was close enough to know he had never seen the being before. And how did his brothers know him? Estel thought he knew all of the twins' friends.

Frowning, he saw someone else descending the stairs and darted forward. He grabbed the elf's sleeve and pointed towards the retreating figures before the other had even looked at him. "Who's that?" he asked.

The elf looked down at the human child in surprise, recognized the boy immediately, and glanced obediently in the indicated direction. A slight smile touched the older being's lips. "That's young Legolas," he answered kindly. "Prince of Mirkwood."


	3. Mind of a Child

A little bit later than last time, but still on time. I've actually read through it this time so I think I caught most of the mistakes I missed in writing (please note _most_). Also, I haven't been able to find any announcement from banning review responses and I found the original email and, providing none of you tell on me (g), I'm going to venture to respond to your reviews until I'm specifically told otherwise, provided your comments prompt comment. Whoo. Oh wait—I have a livejournal account (that I never use, ever) and that was suggested as a way to get responses to you guys since flips out, and if you guys like that suggestion, I'll do that instead of risking suspension of my posting privileges.

Alright now, they're at the bottom, for those of you who wish to pretend they don't exist. Lol.

**Chapter 3 – Mind of a Child**

"Oh," Estel answered. "Thank you."

He barely noticed as the elf nodded and walked away. He was still staring at the place where his brothers had disappeared. The knowledge that Elladan and Elrohir had gone off with someone else while they were supposed to be playing with him had finally sunk in.

Normally, he would have followed them and asked if he could play too, but now he was not sure he was allowed. The twins had been going on hunts a lot lately—staying away from home for long periods of time. They had missed his last two birthdays, and now they chose to play with someone else over him.

'Prince of Mirkwood.'

He had heard of Mirkwood. It was a long ways away over the mountains and dark things lived there. And he knew the wood-elves lived there, and that they were fierce warriors. Did his brothers want to spend time with another warrior like themselves?

The boy glanced down at the bow he still held in his hand. It was small, only half as big as he was, and Elladan's and Elrohir's were much larger. He had only glimpsed Prince Legolas' bow from a distance, but he knew the wood-elf's bow would be at least as big as the twins'. All the warriors had bigger bows than he did. And swords. . . .

He looked at his sword still strapped to his waist and ran his finger lightly over the hilt. No one else carried a wooden sword, either. Everyone else had steel swords that flashed in the sunlight and rang like bells when struck. His only made a dull _thunk_. He frowned slightly as he thought of how inferior his weapons were compared to his brothers and their friend.

And he was always being told he was young. Too young for this and too young for that. All the others elves were so very much older than he was. Maybe Elladan and Elrohir had decided they were tired of playing with a little baby.

Or maybe—and this thought hurt the most—maybe they had decided he was too different. He had always known he was different than his family, known they had pointed ears while his were round, known that the cold did not effect them but made him shiver, known that he got sick while they never did. He knew in the vague way of a child that he would get old and die while his family would live forever, and that he could not see as far nor hear as well or walk as quietly as they could.

Before, he would not have said it mattered. But now . . . now he could not help but think it did. Why else would Elladan and Elrohir abandon him when they were playing a game? His bottom lip trembled on the verge of tears. Didn't they love him anymore?

His thirst forgotten, Estel charged up the porch stairs and through the front doors, not caring that they struck the walls and did not close completely behind him. The _boom_ of them hitting the walls were lost to his ears as he started up the staircase to the second floor. Tears clawed at his throat, scratching and itching, but they did not yet gather in his eyes.

At the door to his Ada's study, he paused. Ada was busy; he had said so this morning, and he was not to bother him when he was busy. But his fear and need overcame his caution, and the little boy quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside, the fletchings of his arrows scraping the wood and causing the elf lord to look up.

"Ada?" he asked uncertainly, half-hiding behind the door.

Elrond looked at him, then smiled reassuringly and beckoned the little one forward. "What is it, my son?" he asked.

Estel abandoned the door and shot across the room. The elf sat back and was only slightly surprised when the boy climbed into his lap. He made no comment and merely wrapped his arms lightly around the sweaty child, waiting for the young one to speak.

The child's hands found one of his father's. He had been so busy running up the stairs, his thoughts so jumbled, that he had got here without quite knowing _what_ he wanted to know, or how to ask it without being told what his ada wanted him to know. He knew Ada could make him feel better, but he did not want to feel better. He wanted to know the truth. Somehow, he did not feel they were one and the same.

Elrond frowned slightly as the child did not speak immediately, busy playing with the fingers of his left hand. He lifted his other hand and stroked it through the boy's hair before settling it back around him. "What is wrong, little one?"

The young face looked up at him seriously, large silver eyes dark. "Can I be a Prince, Ada?"

"A prince?" the elf lord questioned in surprise. "Why do you want to be a prince?"

"Don't people like Princes better than non-Princes?"

"People like other people because of them," Elrond answered with a smile, "not because of their titles."

"Then I can't be a Prince?"

Elrond hugged the boy. "You can be anything you like, my son."

Estel nodded and looked back down, a frown catching at his lips and pinching his small brow. That was not the answer he wanted, nor even the answer Ada wanted to give, he could tell. It was one of those no-answers Ada gave when he thought the real ones would hurt his feelings.

He looked back up. "I can be anything?" he asked. Ada nodded slightly. "Can I be an Elf?"

The elf lord's expression seemed to freeze, then he frowned slightly and asked, "Why don't you want to be a Man?"

But that was not what the child wanted to talk about. His ada never avoided a question when the answer was 'yes.' He frowned, scrunching his brow. "Can't I be an Elf?"

Elrond stroked his cheek, a regretful smile on his lips. "That choice is not given to you, my son. You must be as you were born."

He bit his lip to hold back the tears that wanted to escape his eyes. Ada would hold him if they escaped, and he did not want to be held. "Do you love me, Ada?"

"With all my heart."

"Even though I am Man?"

"Estel, that you are a Man is not something to be ashamed of, and I do not love you despite it. I love you because you are you, and nothing can change that. Do you understand?"

He nodded. And he did, a little; he understood that Ada wanted him to be proud of who he was and that he loved him. The latter he knew at least as much by the fact that Ada had not scolded him when he disturbed him, had not tried to make him go away. He wanted to spend time with him, but lordly duties kept him away.

"Do you want to help me with my paperwork?" Elrond asked, remembering that Glorfindel was away and thinking his son, disturbed by the disruption in his normal routine, might want to spend time with someone he was close to.

But Estel shook his head. "Unh-uh. The twins got home this morning. I'll go play with them."

"Alright." Elrond kissed the little one atop his head before letting him down. "Have fun."

"I will, Ada." But when the human child left the study and closed the door, he did not make for the archery fields. He wanted to talk to someone else. He was still disturbed by his brothers' abandonment and sought an explanation that fit with what he knew.

He knew, for instance, that whenever he got tired of a toy, he put it aside to play with a different one. And Ada had said that people liked people for themselves. Did that mean Elladan and Elrohir did not like him anymore?

Estel bit his lip again as he walked down the stairs. He thought he should ask the twins, but he did not want to. Considering it filled him with dread. What if they said they didn't? What if they told him he was right and they didn't like him anymore and they had found a new friend that was even better? What then?

Tears trembled in his eyes at that thought. He liked the twins. They were his brothers. Always before they would play games with him when they got back from their hunts. What had changed? Was it because he was older? It had never occurred to him that getting older could take things away as well as give him new things. Would he lose his brothers if he got older? If so, he did not want to be older anymore. He wanted things back the way they were before. His brothers had liked him then.

But Legolas is even older than I am, Estel reminded himself, and they like him.

So, confused, he set out for the one person besides Ada who knew everything. He wandered past the kitchens without remembering his thirst or hunger and past the Hall of Fire and came, after a short while, to another study, this one occupied by Lord Erestor. He knocked softly.

"Come in," a very muffled voice called.

Hesitantly, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open so he could glance around the edge. "Lord Erestor?"

The advisor looked up from his papers at the hesitant voice and saw Estel hovering uncertainly in the doorway. He put his quill down and smiled pleasantly at the boy. "Yes, little one?"

"Can I ask you some questions?"

His mind darted to his work, to the things left undone, but they were few and time was not so pressed that they could not wait a few minutes. "Come here," he invited and the child stepped carefully across the room, his steps those of someone trying to make as little noise and disruption as possible. His smile widened as the other stopped in front of him. "What would you like to know?"

But Estel hesitated. Now that he was here, he doubted Erestor was the person to come to. It was such a silly thing to ask of someone so important. Yet when he looked in the advisor's eyes, he saw only friendliness, so he decided to press on. "Do you know Prince Legolas?"

"Of Mirkwood?" Erestor questioned in surprise. The boy nodded. "Aye, I do."

"What's he like?"

"Well. . . ." This was not a question he was asked often, and that it was a young, impressionable child asking threw him even more. What do you tell a boy the tender age of six? "He's kind and loyal, but wary of people he does not know."

"How long has he been friends with 'Dan and 'Ro?"

"A long time," Erestor answered. "But they haven't seen each other for many, many years. Why do you ask, little one?"

"He's here."

"Legolas?"

"And the twins," Estel added after nodding.

The advisor leaned forward slightly. "Why aren't you out playing with them?"

The child half-shrugged and looked down. "They wanted to play catch-up."

Erestor caught his chin and made him look back up. "I'm sorry today hasn't been much fun, little one. But if it helps, your Ada said he was going to give you riding lessons this afternoon."

Estel smiled and nodded, then backed up because he felt their conversation was over.

"Don't get in trouble!" the elder being called.

"I won't," the little boy answered faithfully. Then he made good his escape and stood outside in the hallway, unsure where to go or what he wanted to do. He glanced down each side of the hallway sadly.

There was no one else to talk to, no one else he wanted to talk to. And why would he talk to them? Erestor had told him that he and Legolas were apparently a lot alike, and that the twins wanted to play with Legolas because they had not seen him in a while. He wondered how many years "many" was. For an elf to think it was a long time, he imagined it had to be a _really_ long time. Ten years, maybe; that would explain why he had not ever met the Mirkwood prince before.

But even knowing (or trying to know—he was having a little difficulty convincing himself that he knew) the twins only liked Legolas because they had not seen him in so long did not make him feel better. _He_ had not seen them in a while either, _and_ they had missed his _birthday_. Brothers weren't supposed to miss each other's birthdays. He never missed _theirs_ and he promised himself petulantly that he never would.

Estel started wandering slowly down the hallway, watching his feet as they shuffled across the ground and trying really hard not to cry as he remembered more fully all his brothers had forgotten.

More than just his birthday, they had forgotten to wish him a happy birthday, and they had forgotten his present. They had missed last birthday, too, but they hadn't forgotten to greet him or give him his present. Maybe they had decided they didn't like him anymore after all.

That was not a thought he liked, and he scowled at the ground. Why had stupid Legolas had to come to Rivendell? They had been perfectly happy without him.

With the mental agility and selectiveness of a child, Estel conveniently forgot it was his brothers who had wronged him and focused his anger on the stranger—on the wood-elf from another realm who he felt had stolen his brothers from him. Making up his mind, he headed quickly for the archery pitch.

o/o/o/o/o/o  
o/o/o/o  
o/o/o/o/o/o

**scotchleaf:** You can laugh at Estel's misery? For shame. (g) Updated soon, as requested.

**HarryEstel:** I shall make no comment on Estel and Legolas' meeting. I fear if I do, I shall disappoint you with expectations.

**Viggomaniac**: lol. I had fun with part. Trying to think like a child is interesting and, I think, good for me. Hehe. If it makes you feel any better, I don't quite know where the story is going either. Or I do, but I don't know how to explain it without giving everything away. Hannon le!

**Bubble-Sheep**: No, didn't get it, but I'm glad you reviewed again. And barring natural disasters, I believe I shall. Luckily, all the hurricanes are gone for a while longer. Lol.

**Angel:** Thank you. It was probably my mood when I wrote it, too. More conducive to disturbing thoughts, yes? (g) I can't wait to see what you make of where this is going. This chapter will probably help a lot in that regard.


	4. Friendship and Conflict

Hi, peeps. Sorry this is so late coming. I've been studying all day or I would have updated sooner. I'll try and update before I leave on Friday so that one's not late, too. Forgive me for not responding to reviews. I'm short on time with the end of school just two and a half weeks (and one of those doesn't even count 'cause it's finals week) and two papers to write. But a great big thanks to Leralonde, HarryEstel, Grumpy, and Bubble-Sheep for your lovely reviews. They make me smile. And I hope these last three chapters aren't disappointing.

Happy reading!

**Chapter 4 – Friendship and Conflict **

Elladan ignored the laughter of his twin and the wood-elf prince as he aimed for the target some thirty paces distant. It was a simple shot but the fact that he would catch hell for even the slightest mistake made him pause. That, and he needed the extra time to make sure he was not going to laugh. He held the bow out steady and pulled the string back to the corner of his mouth.

"Are you going to shoot today or tomorrow, Elrondion?"

"Tomorrow, if you don't hold your tongue, Thranduilion." The barest hint of a grin, wicked and predatory crossed his lips, his ears barely registering Legolas' reply. He released the string.

He blew a strand of hair from his face and dropped the bow to his side to regard his shot. Laughter and groans met with the result.

They had been at this for a dozen rotations already, the more or less disciplined alacrity disintegrating predictably into lazy camaraderie as the importance of the competition faded and they simply enjoyed each other's company. Mostly, that had to do with Legolas gaining and keeping a fairly comfortable lead that the twins had little to no hope of overcoming.

"And Elladan overtakes Elrohir for the first time in three rounds!" Legolas announced, laughing.

"You'll pay for that, brother," Elrohir added.

He snorted. "You're delusional, _brother_."

"You're up, Elrohir!" Legolas cut in before the younger twin could reply, pushing him towards the target.

Both Elladan and Elrohir shot him dirty glances, but the elder moved obligingly out of the way and they younger took up his spot. Raising his bow, he said, "If I didn't know any better, Legolas, I'd say you were trying to distract me."

"An interesting prospect," the blond elf answered. Elrohir's arrow struck the target outside the ring Elladan's arrow occupied. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was working."

Elrohir turned to scowl at him as Elladan laughed. "He's right, you know."

"Shut up, brother."

"It's not my fault you can't shoot."

"Neither of you can shoot," Legolas put in diplomatically though common sense might have argued he stay out of it.

Two dark heads swiveled his direction. "Excuse me?" the twins asked in unison, their voices blending into one. Both looked at him, darkly expectant, as if offering one last chance to back out of the situation without consequence.

Legolas was not impressed. "You're Noldor Elves," he elaborated. "It may be that your kind have more wisdom, but in the more physical aspects—such as archery—your people are . . . sorely lacking."

"Did he just say what I think he just said, El?"

"I believe he did, El."

"We can't allow that, can we?"

"We can't allow that at all."

Legolas' expression was bemused as he watched the identical dark-haired elves slowly advancing on him with matching evil grins. He had forgotten how demonic they could look, but his small steps backwards were unhurried. "You realize you can't kill me," he commented casually.

"Ada wouldn't mind," Elrohir answered.

"My father would be furious. It could shatter relations with Mirkwood, provoke war."

Elladan answered, "Not if no one knows we did it."

"You could have been attacked in the mountains by Orcs," Elrohir added.

"Except I wasn't," Legolas observed.

"But nobody knows that," Elladan countered.

"Ada doesn't even know you're here."

"That can change very fast," the wood-elf stated. The twin's smiles just widened. "It's almost time for lunch."

"Indeed, it is," Elladan answered.

"And you're not ready yet."

"Ready?" Legolas echoed uneasily, raising an eyebrow.

"Yet." Elrohir saw realization light in the prince's eyes. It brought the wood-elf's head up a fraction, and his smile deepened. "I think there's just enough time to dress you up."

Exactly what they were going to do, neither Elladan nor Elrohir had any idea but the prince did not know that. He had enough experience with them to expect such a thing and know it would be uncomfortable, and for now, that was sufficient. They only actually needed a plan if they caught him.

"Heh, right," Legolas drawled, the tone not quiet right. Then he bolted, the twins right on his heels. They rounded the house back towards the front porch with the wood-elf four paces ahead. When he reached the courtyard, that distance had not changed.

The blond elf passed the front walk without pause and continued towards the trees without hesitation. But Elrohir noticed the direction with a mental start, something flickering in the back of his mind, something he had forgotten. When he glanced to the side, he stumbled to a halt.

"Estel!" he exclaimed, surprised, as memory flooded back to him. Elladan halted near him and added, "You found us!"

Too late, it occurred to the twins that they were supposed to be in the forest, hiding while their little brother tracked them. They had not expected the boy would find them before they finished bathing, and neither had they expected to meet Legolas. Shame and guilt twisted through him as he realized they had neglected their baby brother and betrayed his trust.

The little boy in question stood atop the stairs by the marble railing with his hands resting atop it, almost like he was peeking out from hiding or getting ready _to_ hide. His expression was hard to read, the blankness of a child not sure what to think or how to feel about something new. He glanced uncertainly towards Legolas, who had reluctantly come to a halt upon hearing the twins' startled exclamations. He looked between the brothers in confusion.

For their part, neither twin spoke. Elrohir waited in silence for Estel to respond, to accuse them of leaving him. But, slowly, the boy smiled. "I found you," he said, sneaky glee in his voice.

The twins exchanged startled glances. "You did!" Elladan responded, eager to avoid the fight they had expected. "You've gotten really good at tracking, tithen pen."

"Ada taught me."

"We thought Glorfindel was doing it," Elladan continued. "We should've known you'd be a pro if Ada was teaching you."

Pride brightened Estel's smile under his elder brother's praise. "I knew I could surprise you."

"You did," Elrohir agreed.

"Can we play again?" the boy asked. His eyes were wide and pleading, much as the first time, and something about his posture suggested he expected them to say no.

Elrohir smiled. "Of course we can," he answered. "Or we could play something else."

"But first," Elladan spoke up, "let us introduce you to a friend of ours. He hasn't been around in a while. Estel, this is Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm." He gestured towards the fair-haired elf, and when silver eyes followed the gesture, Legolas inclined his head, a smile on his face. "Legolas, this is our little brother, Estel."

The little one's lips twitched in an approximation of a smile, but there was no joy in the boy's eyes, none of his customary curiosity that made meeting him such an enjoyable experience. In the blink of an eye, Estel had dismissed the other, focusing on his brothers and shunning the million questions they had imagined the other would ask their old friend. "Can we play now?"

"Let me, Elladan, and Legolas go put out stuff up—and you as well—and then they'll see what we can do until lunch. Okay?"

But Estel scowled. "Does he have to come?"

"Who?" A half-glance to the side told Elrohir and his brother who the boy meant. "Be nice, Estel."

"But I don't want him to play with us!"

"Why?" Elladan pressed, his tone reasonable. Elrohir could tell he was making an effort not to snap at the youth. He, himself, felt more puzzled than annoyed. Why would Legolas be any different than any of the other elves Estel had met? It could not be because he was from Mirkwood, surely. He tried to remember if either he or Elladan had ever mentioned the prince or wood-elves before, but could not think of it if they had. "Why don't you want him to play, Estel?"

But the young human would not answer. He just scowled harder and refused to look at either of them. Elladan moved closer to him. "Answer me, Estel."

"I just don't want him to." Anger hid behind the sulky rejoinder, and Elrohir frowned. What was going on? Estel never acted like this around strangers.

"Estel!" Elladan closed the distance between them and knelt so he was eye-level with the boy. His voice low, he said, "Legolas is a guest in this house. You will treat him with the respect he deserves or you will go to your room."

"But you said we could play," Estel objected dolefully.

Elladan shook his head. "Not unless you're willing to include Legolas." The eldest and youngest sons of Elrond stared into each other's eyes, looking for the slightest wavering that might signal their victory.

Elrohir glanced toward Legolas and saw the blond elf about to object. He caught the other's eye and shook his head. Whether or not the prince wanted to play or even would play was not the issue. Estel had to learn that everything could not go precisely his way. The wood-elf subsided without saying a word.

The younger twin looked back at the boy in time to see his pout transform back into anger. "Fine!" he snapped. "I don't want to play with you anyway!" Then before Elladan could catch him, he turned and bolted back into the house.

"Estel!" the elder called, starting forward before stopping and turning back to his twin, a mixed expression on his face. "What was that about?"

Elrohir shrugged. That outburst made no more sense to him than it did his brother. Estel was usually such a calm, kind, and considerate boy. He had never objected to the necessities of a host before.

"Well, he is human," Legolas commented easily.

Both twins glared at their friend. "What do you mean by that?" Elladan demanded.

Incredulity at the question turned to anger in the fair-haired prince. "Surely you have not forgotten what his kind did? Men are selfish, greedy creatures. Whatever he was like, you must have known he would eventually turn out just like them!"

Elrohir grabbed Elladan's arm before he could stalk forward and attack the prince; It gave him something else to focus on instead of how much he would like to follow his older brother's example.

"Estel is my brother," the elder seethed. "Don't you ever speak of him like that again! Ever!" He wrenched out of Elrohir's grasp and stalked up the stairs.

The prince's gaze flickered to Elrohir but found no sympathy or apology only the same anger better controlled. "Estel is the sweetest, kindest, most generous soul you will ever meet." Elrohir's eyes were hard and uncompromising. "If you can't give him a chance and treat _him_ with the respect he deserves, you would do best to leave now."

"What could possibly make you favor him over your own kind?" Legolas demanded after a moment, incredulous, his anger now mixed with confusion.

"I protect him because he's my brother," Elrohir answered. He glanced into the house, following the path his brothers had taken moments ago with his eyes. He could remember chasing Estel up the stairs, laughing, and the child's shrieks of glee as his fingers found the little one's sides. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night to crying when Estel suffered a nightmare, and all the odds and ends he had gotten over the years because the little human liked to share his treasures. "Perhaps if you give him a chance, you'll find out why I love him."

They stared at each other a moment, not moving, then Elrohir turned to head into the house, ascending the stairs slowly. Would Elladan have gone after Estel? Should he follow? What had gotten into the boy? But often though they had been compared to children in the past (and on occasion still were) he could not figure out what was going through his little brother's head.

"Where are you going?" Legolas asked from where he stood.

Elrohir looked back at him. He sighed, shook his head, looked back into the house, then returned to his friend. "I think we'd both better go give our greetings to Father," he answered finally.

Legolas nodded without comment.

o/o/o/o/o/o

Elladan wondered the halls of his father's house without direction. When he had started off, he was going after the human child he regarded as a brother, but that goal had been abandoned as soon as he was surrounded by the calm of the Last Homely House. He was too angry and emotional by half. If he confronted the child now, it would only make matters worse. He knew it.

And so he walked, aimlessly, railing at the beauty that surrounded him. His anger—at Legolas, at himself, at his brother—combined to make the elegant beauty of his home appear vulgar and ostentatious. Simple statues were flamboyant displays. Portraits he had loved as an elfling were ugly, gaudy pieces. The open hallways were too close. He railed at his home, and yet he never thought to leave.

Before his eyes, as clearly as if the child still stood before him, he could see the hurt—the pain—that darkened Estel's eyes before hard anger took its place. The anger he recognized; it was a reflex, a protection—he did it himself. The pain was what he could not abide. It tore at his heart with every repetition that passed before his eyes.

Estel had already suffered much, losing his parents at such a young age; did he really have to make it worse for the child? Did he have to make it harder? What should he do? He needed to talk to his youngest brother, he knew he did, but he was in no frame of mind to make right whatever was wrong. He was too angry. If he accidentally snapped at him, it would make things worse.

So he tangled his fingers in his hair, and he walked, the beauty of his surroundings lost to his conflicted mind. In his heart of hearts he wanted to leave this place and wander the forests—his love for his brother would not let him.


	5. Tears

You all review so nicely. (g)

All right, here's the next chapter. Having just read through it for spelling or grammatical errors, I'm not sure I'm satisfied with it. Re-writing it now, though, would be pointless so it'll have to stand until I feel like doing revisions.

Also, we're almost to the end. (Yay!) Next chapter is the last one, this little bit of fiction weighing in at only 6 chapters. And yes, Bubble-Sheep, if you really want to after this chapter, you may punch Legolas. Lol. Lacking questions other than the ones I can't answer, I'll see you on the other side. BTW, I think I'm gonna start posting comments on livejournal. When I do, I'll include the link either here, like in a chapter, or on my profile page.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Leralonde, HarryEstel (sorry; you'll understand why in a minute, I think), Grumpy, Angel (poetic; is that good or bad?), Bubble-Sheep, and Elf771! I'd respond properly but I'm leaving Tally in less than an hour and I still have to pack. Eep!

Cheers!

**Chapter 5 – Tears**

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," Legolas said with a bow. He glanced at Elrohir, then said, "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to take a walk in your woods. I find them relaxing."

Elrond nodded. "You're welcome to go anywhere you wish, young prince. Make yourself at home."

The other smiled and bowed slightly, and then made his way quietly from the room. Elrohir caught another sidelong glance, guessed its meaning, and looked back to his father.

The elf lord studied him without moving for a long moment. His son knew him well enough to know he was searching for injuries. He took a deep breath, released it, and smiled. "It's good to see you, my son," he greeted and started around his desk.

Elrohir met him halfway. "It's good to see you, too, father."

"Where's Elladan?"

"I don't know." The younger elf saw concern darken his father's gaze and hastened to add, "He's here—home. And well. I just don't know where here."

Elrond did not look entirely reassured, but he nodded. "How did it go?"

"Good," he answered quietly, studying the floor as he spoke. He wondered idly towards his father's desk and played with a patch of wood. "We found a couple of Orcs bands east of Bree. The winter was hard, but nowhere near as bad as the Fell Winter. Halbarad sends his thanks for the grain. There were few injuries, and what injuries we suffered were minor."

"I'm glad the Dúnadain encountered no serious problems," the other replied. "I worried some ill had befallen you when you hadn't returned for Estel's birthday."

"Estel's birthday?" Elrohir echoed, looking up quickly.

His father's gaze was stern when their eyes met. "Yes, Estel's birthday. The first of March. You might recall promising to be home for this one."

He did now. But by all the Valar, he had forgotten. He clenched his eyes shut against the memories and dropped his head in shame, but he still saw the excitement on his little brother's face when they promised before they left that they would be back in time for his birthday. That smile had chased away the sorrow of their departure, and he could easily imagine the boy's disappointment when they failed to show.

"Did he take it badly?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"He was disappointed," Elrond answered. "Greatly so, I believe, but he would never admit it. He looks up to you, Elrohir, you and Elladan. You're his heroes! Valar know you don't deserve it."

"I'm sorry, Ada," he whispered. "We forgot."

"Forgot. I ask you to be here for one day out of the year to make a little boy who loves you happy and you would rather be out slaying Orcs."

"Have you forgotten what they did to mother!" he burst out, stung by his father's words, angered by his own actions.

His father rounded on him. "She waits beyond the sea, Elrohir! You brought her back! She lives! It may be a long time before we see her again, but she is there! She loved Imladris, yet you flee from here every chance you get!"

"She didn't love Imladris! She loved _you—_"

"And you can't wait to flee me, either," Elrond finished with frigid calm, silencing him. "Your hate consumes you. You find no joy in the company of others, in riding, or in nature lest it furthers your pursuit of Orcs. You do not play as you used to, never lift your voice in song. I miss your laughter in this house, my son."

Elrohir forced himself to look at his father, but the elf lord was not looking at him. He stared out the window, his sorrow clear in his grey eyes. It was reflected in his voice when she spoke. "Arwen stays in Lorien far from the reach of my arms. She needs to be where there is joy, and I understand. I would not hold her here just to ease my heart. You and your brother ride out with the Dúnadain, and I understand your need also. Years ago, I might even have ridden with you. Her pain, her torment, at the hands of those beasts is difficult to bear, and her loss tears my heart asunder everyday.

"I feel her absence keenly, my son. When I get up in the morning; after a difficult day; when I look to see her smile or feel her hand against my cheek; I miss her laugh, and the only thing that lets me continue in this world is the knowledge that one day I will follow her and be made whole."

Elrohir looked down at his hands. He, too, missed his mother. He saw her smile and heard her laughter, and knew her screams and sobs, the shadows that haunted her eyes no matter what she did after she returned. That his father felt the same was easy to forget though he knew the elder elf had loved Celebrian fiercely. He did not know what to say.

Elrond looked at his son, then walked over and pulled him into another hug. "It has been centuries, my son. Can you not let go the hate and live again? Can you not find joy in what you have?"

"I can try, Ada." He heard the tears that had yet to fall in his voice. He cleared his throat and pulled away. "I should go find Elladan."

The elder looked at him a moment, looked as if he might say something, but simply nodded and went back to his desk, obviously reaching for his own composure as he went. "Yes, lunch will be served soon." He looked up with a wan smile. "In fact, you should find Estel while you're at it. I'm surprised he didn't jump you when you got in."

Elrohir forced a smile. "I imagine he was too busy playing, but I'll find him." Then he left before Elrond could question him further. He did not think he could bring himself to admit how poorly they had treated the boy after what he had just heard. The pain of his mother's departure, the guilt, and loss and shame, were all too strong and jumbled for him to recall that particular incident and give it voice.

He hurried down the hall to put as much distance between himself and his father as possible. He needed to find Elladan. He needed to find his brother.

o/o/o/o/o

Spring in Imladris, to Legolas, was like paradise. The sun was clear, the trees beautiful, the land full of a peace he had never found anywhere else. It was so very different from his home, and its light stood in stark contrast to the shadow that had fallen over Greenwood. He held vague memories of a time long ago when it had been different, but they had given over to the darker reality. More than anything, he wanted to see his home restored to the beauty of old.

He walked around the house, delaying his trip into the forests in case Elrohir needed his help after his conversation with his father. He glanced at the various elves that came across his path, watching them, hearing their quiet greetings and songs, looked back at the doors every so often, touched what trees came near him in his circuit, but never ventured far from the walls of the dwelling.

Even from there, he could feel the sun, could hear the birds sing and see skittering squirrels, fluttering butterflies, and glimpse the first blossoms of spring. Sweet elven songs added to the birds' chorus and light laughter complemented it, so he was surprised when he heard a sound that took no joy in the day.

A frown touched his face as he strained to identify the sound and stopped to better catch it. Crying.

The Mirkwood prince looked around to see if there was someone who might help, but now, as he had not been earlier, he was quite alone. Hesitantly, slowly, he moved towards where he thought the sobs were coming from. When he caught sight of the boy Estel, crouched behind some bushes with his legs clutched to his chest, he froze.

He had no experience with children, crying or otherwise, and the task of comforting a youngster was daunting, uncomfortable. Add to that the fact that the child had seemed to dislike him and his own dislike of men, and he was obviously the last person who should try to ease the little one's distress. He almost turned straight around and strode away for that reason alone.

Yet now that he had seen him, he could not in good conscious simply walk away from the child, nor could he simply stand here and listen to the heartbroken sobs. He looked around one last time for someone to save him—if there was someone else who could help the child, he could leave and let them take over—but he was still the only other being in this part of Imladris.

Biting his lip, remembering Elrohir's words, he walked tentatively forward. The human did not move or look up. Feet from the child, he stopped. "Hello, little one," he said.

Estel looked up quickly, startled. For a moment he stopped crying as his eyes met the one who stood before him and sought the other's identity. In that moment Legolas thought he might yet get out of this. Then the boy dropped his head back to his knees and sobbed even harder.

An odd panic seized him and he dropped quickly to the ground beside the young one. "Don't cry," he bid, hesitantly reaching out a hand to touch the other's back. He was surprised when the other did not pull away and let his hand settle more firmly. The sobs seemed even to increase. "What's wrong?" he tried instead.

The boy sniffled. He doubted the little one would answer, then he heard: "'Dan and 'Ro don't like me any more."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dey like you better," he forced out around heaving breaths that sobbed out of him, his words quivering.

"No they don't," Legolas denied, watching the child with wide eyes.

"Yeh-yes, they do," Estel replied. "They for-forgot my b-b-birthda-ay. They-they weren't here-ere, and they didn't-didn't say 'happ-pp-y b-b-birth-thday' when they came-came home." He sniffed harder and scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes before clasping his legs again. "And th-they played w-with yo-ou instead of m-m-me. They said they would p-play hi-hide-m-me-seek-me with m-_me_. But they di-didn't." Hearing that, saying that, the sobs came as hard as ever.

Hearing words he had spoken to the night when he was little, Legolas felt his own heart contract in sympathetic pain. He tried to smile encouragingly, despite the fact that the boy was not looking at him. "Estel, Elladan and Elrohir love you."

"No they don't!" he denied heatedly, his eyes fixed on the ground between his feet.

"They do!" Legolas insisted. "They told me so. You're their brother."

The little dark-haired head shook stubbornly. "If they l-loved me, they wouldn't 'ave chosen you over m-me."

"They didn't."

"They wa-wanted to play archery with you m-more than they wanted to pl-ay hide-me-seek-me with m-me." His breathing came in painful-looking spasms that jerked his whole body.

Legolas looked off towards the front courtyard invisible past the edge of the house. Had that been why the twins were going outside? To play with their little brother? He had thought they heard of his approach. But then why had they not seen him, not looked for him?

He had last seen the twins centuries ago. They used to see each other often, every couple of years, at least, whether it was at his home or theirs. They would spend months driving each other and everyone else crazy, and then say good-bye and plan until their next visit. Their fathers had sighed and rolled their eyes, complained good naturedly about the trouble they caused or got into, but never tried to interfere.

Then Celebrian was captured by orcs. Darkness encroached further upon the borders of his father's realm, and his people needed their prince. He could no longer leave to visit Imladris, and the twins—caught up in their hatred and anger for the ones who hurt their mother—no longer came to him. Busy, it had taken him more than a couple of years to realize what had happened, and by then, there had been nothing he could do.

They had changed, he acknowledged. They joked like he remembered; teased and played rough, laughed, but it never quite banished the shadows from their eyes. Never, he thought, except when they introduced their little brother, but they had not really been happy either.

"They didn't choose me over you, Estel," he told the little boy. "They chose their responsibilities as hosts over having fun. Years ago I might have been close enough to them to be considered family instead, but too much has happened in that time and those bonds have stretched. They just like to pretend nothing has changed."

Watery grey eyes peeked at him, and Estel slowly raised his head. Around his eyes was red and puffy, and the elf felt an insane urge to hug the boy. Innocent eyes searched his face, and he found his smile widening. "Do you mean it?" the child asked in small voice.

"I do," he answered, not entirely sure what it was he was saying he meant.

The boy sniffed and wiped his nose across the back of his hand. Legolas scrunched his nose I disgust. "I'm sorry I was rude to you," Estel said after a moment.

"Why were you?"

He shrugged and played with a blade of grass near his feet. His voice, when he spoke, was difficult to hear. "I thought if you went away, 'Dan and 'Ro would like me best again."

Legolas could not help himself, he laughed.

"What?" Estel asked, a frown on his small face.

"Oh, nothing, little one. But how did you think ignoring me would make me go away?"

A small smile pulled at the other's lips. "I don't know." He shrugged.

"Shall we go find your brothers?"

Estel shook his head. "They'll be mad at me."

"Maybe," Legolas conceded. "But only for a little while."

The child thought about that a moment then wiped his eyes and looked at the blond archer. "Would you like to play with me?"

"I'm worthy now?" he teased, not quite able to keep a touch of sarcasm from his voice.

"My brothers like you," Estel answered matter-of-factly, but Legolas caught a touch of longing in his eyes. It brought him up short.

The elf shifted and looked at him seriously. "What would you like to play?"

The boy shrugged.

"Can we decide after lunch?"

This time, a nod and a smile.

"Okay. Let's go find your brothers." Legolas stood and Estel followed suit. When the child reached for his hand, he took it, quietly thankful it was his right and not his left. He could at least delude himself into thinking it was clean because he had not seen the other use it to wipe his nose. "Do you want to find your brothers first or wash up first?"

Their pace was slow as they walked towards the front door. Legolas stared out at the green trees as he waited for the youth to make up his mind. There was no particular hurry, so he did not press.

He used the silence to ponder his situation and wonder at the child by his side. The conversation, short as it was, ran over and over inside his head, and yet he could find no reason for the strange camaraderie—the ease he felt in the boy's company. The child seemed so different from all the men he had met, and he wondered if all children were like this one. He had a hard time remembering that the little one still sniffling beside him was a man. Would he grow up to be just like the ones he scorned?

It was a strangely disturbing thought to someone who had never cared one way or the other about a human. He took for granted that they were all greedy, malicious creatures, and the possibility that Estel could grow up to be just like them saddened him—never mind that he had dismissed the boy just like that when first they met.

But surely Elladan and Elrohir, not to mention Lord Elrond, would not allow that? A human raised among elves would be different, would he not? A slight frown creased his brow as he tried to come to terms with this admittedly odd consideration. And why it bothered him.

"Legolas?" The elf looked down at the young voice and found the child biting his lip uncertainly.

"What is it, Estel?"

Silver eyes peered up at him uncertainly. "Would you be my friend?"

"Why do you want to be friends, little one?"

"You're nice," the child answered, quickly ducking his head. "Not everyone's nice to me."

It hurt to hear the quiet pain in so young a voice. And suddenly, he realized what the longing he had seen was: Estel wanted to be liked, wanted to be treated as a friend. That longing touched a chord in his own heart. He smiled. "I would like that."

Estel smiled back. Legolas thought he understood why the twins were so protective of the young human. There was just something about him, something . . . likeable.


	6. For the Past or the Future

Sorry this is so late. I just got back to Tally. But for the next 20 minutes, it's still the 17th (at least on the east coast of the U. S., so I haven't missed it yet. (g) I'm going to have to beg forgiveness for not responding to your lovely reviews again. If you have any questions, I'll answer them on my profile in a day or two, so ask and remember to look. You guys are great!

Enjoy this last chapter of Playing Games.

**Chapter 6 – For the Past or the Future**

Elrohir found his brother on a second floor balcony, staring out over the vale of Rivendell with a pensive look he knew well. It was a look he wore whenever anyone got hurt and he believed there was something he could have done to prevent it. It was the same look he wore whenever he thought about their mother.

"Brother?"

Elladan started but did not turn around. "What s wrong with me, El?

"What do you mean?"

"I hurt him so much," the elder murmured. "Why do I do it? He doesn't deserve it."

"You judge yourself too harshly."

"Do I?" he asked, sounding curious. "I don't think I do."

Elrohir moved closer and sat on the railing beside his brother. The lightest of breezes cooled his flesh. He watched the other and waited, saying nothing. From below, the heard the crystal ringing of the bell calling everyone to lunch.

"I push him away, El. I don't mean to but I do." He rested his elbows on the stone rail. "We got close to Arathorn and he died, far too young, and what if I get close to Aragorn and he dies too? It hurts too much, even thinking it."

"I know."

Silence pressed in around them. Elrohir felt inclined to continue, to broach the thoughts that had coalesced in mind as he searched the halls of the Last Homely House for his twin, but he was not sure how. He was not sure how his brother would react to them. That perhaps, more than anything, was what held his tongue.

He bit his lip. "Elladan? Do you think we've taken this too far? Done it too long?"

When the elder tensed and half-started up, he knew he did not have to specify what "this" and "it" were. They were the life and breath of their last few centuries. "I don't know," he answered. "Why?"

"I do," Elrohir replied. "I think we need to stop. It hasn't changed anything."

"The Orcs need to pay for what they did to Mother," Elladan said firmly.

His twins nodded. "They have, brother. But I think we pay more." He glanced out to the woods, looked out at the trees Estel had tromped through trying to find their trail. "I'd like to see Estel grow, become a Man. I'd like to be a real part of his life instead of just a frequent visitor."

"You've been talking to Father," observed Elladan, nodding slightly.

"He asked where you were. Said he was worried."

The elder took a deep breath, held it, let it go. "I don't know if I can," he said. "It eats at me, knowing those beasts yet wander Arda. They don't deserve to live."

"Don't we?"

Elladan looked at him then and their grey eyes met. So much shared grief passed between them that could never be put into words. They knew the other's thoughts, their feelings, as no one else could. Then Elladan voiced their concern: "I don't think I know how."

o/o/o/o/o/o

Lunch passed quietly. Estel tried gamely to keep the conversation rolling; but the longer the twins' chairs remained empty, the quieter he became. Elrond and Legolas tried to talk to the boy but his answers were short and lackluster. That something had happened between the brothers, the elf lord knew, but he could not figure out what. Neither Legolas nor Estel would utter a word on the subject.

Lord Elrond watched Estel take another half-hearted bite of his foul only to begin playing with the remaining food a moment later. Silver eyes darted across the table, then dropped.

He followed the look, already knowing what he would find—two empty chairs, the place untouched—and sighed. He wished. . . . But he had no desire to define those emotions with words and let it go. He looked back at his youngest, pretending to eat his food, and decided something had to be done.

Forcing a smile, Elrond said, "Estel, why don't we go out to the stables."

The boy looked up, but it was Legolas who spoke the pair's confusion: "Why the stables?"

The elf lord raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Did you not tell Legolas about our plans for this afternoon, my son?"

Confusion pinched the boy's brow, darkening his eyes—then it cleared, excitement replacing it. He met Legolas' questioning gaze. "Ada said he'd take me riding this afternoon," he said. "Would you like to come?" Anticipating the protest, as both Elladan and Elrohir had used it many times, he directed his next plea to his father: "Can he come, Ada? Can he?"

Elrond laughed lightly, with a glance telling the young prince he was not obligated to indulge the boy, and smiled at the boy. "Easy, Estel. The young Prince learned to ride many years ago with the twins. There may be other things he needs to do, but he may come if he wants to."

The archer appreciated the fact that Lord Elrond had made sure he could decline, and though he knew he should probably seek out the twins, he found he did not wish to, especially when Estel turned sobered silver eyes on him. Within those bright eyes, he found anticipation of refusal, acceptance that there were more important things than spending time with him that the elves he loved had to do, and a faint hope that he would get to spend time with his new friend.

"I thank you, my lord," he answered. "But there is nothing I have to do that cannot wait a couple of hours. I would be delighted to join you."

The smile that erased the anticipation of disappointment assured him he had made the right decision. The child looked to his father expectantly. "Well, then," the elf lord answered. "I believe the horses await."

Elladan and Elrohir took up watch on the porch, staring out over the yard of their home. Legolas and Estel were both on horseback while Elrond assisted from the ground, making sure the six-year-old did not fall from his perch.

"Make a circle!" they heard their father call. They watched as the fair-haired wood-elf led their little brother in a wide loop around Elrond at a light trot. The pace bounced the boy in his seat, thumping him like a rag doll against the leather saddle and making his arms flap like a bird's. Smiles graced their faces.

"Squeeze your knees together, Estel! Hold on tight! There you go. Up and down, steady now. Control your movement. Watch Legolas! See what he does?"

They had not realized before, but they saw now that Legolas rode with saddle and bridle. Their eyes followed their little one as he studied the wood-elf with a seriousness out of place on one so young and slowly started copying the other's movements, tentatively at first, then with greater confidence as he got the hang of it.

"That's it!" Elrond approved. "That's it, Estel! Just like that!"

The child looked up with a proud smile and almost immediately lost the rhythm of the post, bounced along rapidly until he regained control, once more focusing his attention on the horse under him.

"Look, Legolas! I'm doing it! I'm riding!" the child called.

"I see you!" the wood-elf laughed. "I see you! You're doing wonderful!"

Wonderful. It was strange standing here with their little brother out there. In those first few months, when the awing joy of having a new life around blocked out the pain of loss and they had determined to do better by Aragorn than they had Arathorn, they had imagined they would be the ones to teach the boy to ride.

Elrohir still remember their late night debates on how they would start, where they would go, what age they would introduce him. It was only standing here, watching the rest of their family experiencing what they had planned to, that he realized the plan had been to start when he turned six. And they had not even been here.

Their father had obviously remembered and taken it upon himself to see that the little one did not miss out. He was glad Father had stepped in, but he wished they had been here. So much had they forgotten recently. How much was due to their hunt for orcs? Their hate? How much life had they missed in pursuit of death?

Estel was a natural on a horse. Before long, he was racing Legolas back and forth, the two young ones taking turns chasing each other, and the elder elf had gone from teacher to overseer. Minutes slid away to hours, and at least two passed in such simple pursuit.

Elrond watched the two, dark and fair, with an unreadable expression, lost in some thought that seemed to the twins to bring both happiness and sorrow in equal measure. Then he seemed to feel their gaze and looked up, glancing to the side to catch their eyes.

Grey met grey, and it seemed to the younger twin that their father knew something of what had transpired earlier. Nothing specific, he thought, but enough to know that all was not right between the brothers. _Make it right,_ he heard.

The elf lord turned back to his charges and clapped twice to get their attention. "All right! I think that's enough riding for one day."

Obediently, Estel stopped. "Can we ride more tomorrow?" he asked as the elf lord came over to help him down.

"Perhaps," the elder replied. "We'll have to see what happens tomorrow."

"This was fun, Ada. Thank you for riding with me, Legolas." The boy looked between the two elves with a smile on his face.

"I'm glad, my son."

"Your welcome, Estel."

But that was when he caught sight of the twins standing at the house and he barely noticed as Lord Elrond asked Legolas to help him take care of the horses, a task the boy was supposed to complete himself if he was to ride. He did not even realize his father failed to call him back for the task as he took of toward the identical pair.

Elladan and Elrohir went to meet him. They tried to smile but either the effort fell flat or Estel was not willing to forget what had happened even if it appeared they were, for the boy slowed and came to a halt feet before them. He waited silently, eyes large in his small face.

Elrohir was the first to speak. "We saw you riding out there, little brother. You did very well." Elladan nodded next to them.

Estel smiled shyly but seemed no more at ease. He seemed to be waiting for something. Or trying to find the courage to say something. Elrohir decided to see if it was the latter.

"What's wrong, little one?" he asked.

"Why weren't you at lunch?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then looked back at his twin to find the same startlement he felt. He looked at the boy. "That's what's bothering you?"

"We always have lunch together when you're home," the little boy answered. "Are you mad at me? Is that why you didn't come? I didn't mean to make you mad. I'm sorry I was rude."

Elrohir squatted on his toes and held out his hands. Estel obediently moved closer and the younger twin pulled him to his lap. "We're not mad at you, tithen pen."

Elladan squatted near him. "And we're glad you and Legolas are getting along now."

"We're friends," the little boy offered shyly, but obviously pleased.

"That's good," Elladan told him.

Bright, innocent eyes looked up at them. "But if you weren't mad at me, why weren't you at lunch?"

"We were thinking," Elrohir answered lightly.

"About what?"

Days spent hunting through dreary countryside after the foul beasts that killed your parents and stole our mother, was the answer that popped into his head. He remembered cheerless days and horrid nights, remembered stretches of weeks or months where he no longer knew precisely who he was, who the faces around him were, and knew with the clarity of hindsight that he was losing himself the longer this went on. The longer they forsook life, the smaller its hold on them became.

In a few years' time, would they enjoy a cool breeze? Would they enjoy the fresh, newness of spring, the sun on their faces? Would they find beauty in the trees and streams and mountains—the landscape of Middle-earth? Would they still be able to differentiate orcs and men? He suspected he knew the answer, and it was one he did not like.

He shuddered to think what would become of little Estel if he should choose to follow in their footsteps. It was a life—a non-life—they would wish on no one. He hugged the boy closer for comfort and decided to answer with a question of his own.

"How, how would you like it if Elladan and I stayed around for a while?"

Estel's eyes were large. "How long's 'a while'?"

"A year, at least."

The silver orbs grew even larger. "You'd be here for my next birthday?"

"We'd be here for your next birthday and all the days in between."

The boy smiled and opened his mouth to answer—then frowned, his face dropping quickly and he pulled back slightly, the better to peer into his elder brother's face. "But what about your hunts? People need you to help them."

"Do you remember the Rangers, Estel?" Elladan jumped in. When the child nodded, he said, "We ride with them on our hunts. They'll help the people while we're gone. You don't have to worry about that, little one."

"Well, what do you say?"

Estel answered by throwing his arms around Elrohir's neck. "Thank you," he murmured.

Elrohir smiled sadly. "We're sorry we missed your birthday."

"It's okay." The boy let go to hug Elladan. "Will you help Glorfindel teach me?"

"Of course, little one."

Estel's smile widened, joy lighting his eyes, and he hugged each of them one more time. "I'm gonna be the best warrior ever!" he said. "And I'm gonna help people, too."

"We know you will," Elrohir agreed, getting caught up in his little brother's excitement.

"And one day, I'm going to be just like you."

**The End**


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